


Inferno

by MasonRust



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Injury Recovery, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5134550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasonRust/pseuds/MasonRust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An industrial fire in Estonia takes a turn for the worse for Virgil Tracy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inferno

Scott was taking the opportunity to catch up on the news when the flashing of the signal caught his attention.   
“Hey John, what’s up?”  
“Industrial fire, Estonia. It’s a resource factory.”  
Scott was up before John was even finished, already moving towards his loading bay.   
“Buzz Virgil and Gordon.”  
“FAB”  
John disappeared as the wall finished its rotation and Scott was ready for work.

“Virgil, Industrial fire, Estonia.”  
Virgil threw himself off his chair and hollered for Gordon. Fires were where the speed mattered, and he was already too slow. The picture turned and Virgil found himself tapping impatiently as the machines did their work. It always felt too slow. Down the chute and off the end, he dragged the hatch shut as Gordon appeared fiddling with his sash.   
“It’s not fair. You guys get your fancy-pancy dresser things and I have to get into this already wet wetsuit.”  
Despite the grumbling, Gordon was already strapped in and ready. Virgil fired up Two and dialed up the speed.   
“You ready Virgil?”  
“FAB Scott. I’ll grab the water closer to the disaster zone.”  
“FAB. See you there.”

The resource factory was a write off, the plumes of smoke hinting at a leak of something sinister. An explosion rung out as they dropped the first lot of water, the gas meeting the heat and flames with an almost impressive power.   
“We have a gas leak. Watch yourselves.”  
John’s tone gave away more than the words themselves. The smoke was black, the ground flickering like one of the depictions of Hell in Scotts literature. Due to the chaos inside the inferno, Virgil didn’t see the bar coming until it was too late. Another explosion shook Thunderbird 2, rocking it through the air as the fire belched debris into the air. At least three meters with sections glowing from the heat, he didn’t miss the sound it made as it smashed directly through the windscreen. It didn’t miss him either, the force knocking him out of his chair, throwing him across the cockpit. The wall caught him, head smashing backwards into the metal that had far too many knobs on it. Black flashed across his vision and suddenly he found himself lying on the floor. Pain radiated across his body, culminating in a ringing in his head. Blinking, Virgil tried to regain something that resembled functionality but when he shifted his body white flashed across his vision and he was on the floor again. He was also wet, Virgil found himself noting. It was dribbling down around his ear. The same ear that was picking something up, a tinny racket. Frowning, he tried to focus on the sound, brain scrambled but calm.   
“Virgil - Virgil -VIRGIL!”  
The shouting hurt his head and Virgil tried to push himself up again, only to find gravity still wasn’t his friend. If only he could just turn the damn stuff off. Groaning, he tried to press a hand to the earpiece, to tell Gordon and Scott to please Shut the Fuck up. Nothing much came out except another groan.   
“Virgil?”  
Oh thank God. John’s voice was softer and didn’t feel like knives jerking into his brain.   
“John?”  
John said something else that Virgil didn’t catch, too busy trying to work out why his top arm wasn’t responding to his commands.   
“Virgil, are you alright?”  
“Give me a minute.”  
He was fine, really. Except for the dead arm and the pain in his head and the fact his body wasn’t sitting up when he told the thing to. Finally, with an almighty shove he pushed up against the wall until he was sitting. White light and pain reeled across his vision and he slumped back over to the other side, barely managing to catch himself. Leaning his head against the wall - ow ow ow - Virgil tried to take a look around the compartment. He could smell smoke, see the flickering of flames. The control panel was fried, and the fucking bar through the windscreen meant he couldn’t see anything but smoking metal.   
"Vigil, status.”  
“Thunderbird 2 is fried.”  
There was something obscuring his vision and he lent his crown back against the cool metal. There was also something sliding down the back of his neck, and he ran his left hand down it. It came away red. The sight of the crimson liquid coating his fingers sent fear down his spine and he reached up again, threading them through his hair. Probing his scalp, his fingers touched the matted hair around the source of the blood and the pain behind his eyes. Looking down at his right arm, trying to blink the pain away he noticed the odd angle of his shoulder. Frowning, he prodded it and brought himself another wave of pain. He could feel the blood draining out of his face.   
“I’m gonna need some help.”  
“Virgil?”  
“Yeah I’m bleeding pretty bad and my shoulder looks…”  
He risked another look at the weird placement of his right shoulder.   
“…dislocated. Systems are fried.”  
“Right. I’m sending Gordon back to your location to take over the controls.”  
Virgil was feeling light headed. Now that he’d noticed his shoulder the pain was getting harder to keep down.   
“Virgil?”  
And here’s Johnny. He chuckled to himself at that one, feeling his head loll down onto his left shoulder. There was a song starting in the back of his head, a tune that Virgil couldn’t quite put his finger on. The pain was like a wave knocking out all of his conscious through except for the notes in his ears.

Virgil opened his eyes to a black silhouette and far too much pain. He went to close them again with a groan.   
“No, you don’t. Eyes open Virgil.”  
Virgil opened them and blinked at Scott. He was dirty with soot and the canyon between his eyebrows deserved a place on a map. The ship shuddered under him and Virgil frowned.   
“Gordon, be careful with my ship.”  
The words came out slurred around his tongue and Scott’s canyon grew deeper.   
“Virgil, I need you to stay awake alright? We’re almost there.”  
There was another shudder and Virgil toppled over.   
“Damn it Gordon!”  
Scott’s hand was on his good shoulder, hauling Virgil up into a seated position again. Virgil thought it would be okay to go to sleep now.   
“Gordon I said- Virgil eyes open!”  
He chuckled softly to himself, eyelids made of lead. Scotty was going to have to try a lot harder than that. He was still chuckling as he dropped out of consciousness again.

When he was next shaken awake, Virgil was in a lot more pain than he’d been in before.  
“Virgil, we need you to stay awake.”  
Blinking, he managed to focus on Scott and Brains standing in front of him. His shoulder ached and there were long needles digging into his skull.   
“Ww-we reset your shoulder and taped your head. I need you to answer a c-couple of questions for me, alright?”  
He grunted at that, feeling his thoughts float around his head lazily. Virgil couldn’t quite hold onto a single one of them. It was going to be a long night.   
“What is your name?”  
“Virgil Tracy.”  
“What year is it?”  
“2060.”  
Brain’s hummed under his breath and pulled out a small torch light. He shone it in Virgil’s eyes, left first then nodded slightly.  
“I t-think he’s alright. Someone should wake him every couple of hours. Just to be sure.”  
“Right. Off we go.”  
Scott looped an arm under Virgil’s and frog marched him to his room. Virgil was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.  
Someone was prodding at his face, and Virgil snarled slightly, turning his face. The irritation was gone for a second and then it was back.   
“Virgil!”  
Someone tapped his face again, and Virgil tried to wave them away. He was sleeping.   
“Virgil!”  
“WHAT?”  
He snapped his eyes open and glared at Gordon. He wanted to sleep, and the bloody idiot was keeping him awake.   
“What’s your name?”  
Closing his eyes, Virgil rested his head back against the pillow.  
“Gordon so help me…”  
“What’s your name?”  
“Virgil.”  
Gordon nodded once, satisfied and for a moment Virgil thought the torment was over and he was going to be able to sleep. Then a bright light shone in his face.   
“OW, FUCK.”  
He tried to shield his eyes with his arm, brain forgetting that it was strapped in a sling.   
“Would you stop?”  
Gordon flicked the light away and Virgil was blinded, white filling his vision. But he didn’t need his eyes to know the little shit was grinning his face off.   
“Can I sleep yet?”  
“Yep. See you in three hours!”  
With a groan, Virgil turned onto his left side and shut his eyes again, the circle of light still colouring his vision.

“Ow, shi-!”  
Virgil jerked at the pain as Scott tried to tape his head shut.   
“It would be easier if you stopped jerking around.”  
“I-”  
He hissed again as Scott finally got the tape on and in position, sitting back in his chair.   
“That needs stitch-”  
“It’s fine.”  
“No, it needs stitches”  
“Gordon, tell him it’s fine.”  
The little shit just ignored him, grinning like a clown. It was the same way he’d been ignoring them bickering for the last 20 minutes. Virgil had been hauled out of bed at midday by Scott insisting that his head needed looking at, and Scott hadn’t provided him with caffeine. As such, Virgil felt worse than he looked, and fratricide was definitely a possibility.   
“Look, Virgil, you may have more experience than I do, but I’m telling you…”  
Rolling his eyes, Virgil called out to his last ally. The hologram of the only brother who could halt the smother-hen floated on the table.  
“John?”  
“You need stitches.”  
So much for that. Scott ‘ha'ed him in triumph so Virgil elbowed him in the stomach.   
“Fine. But Brains is going to do them.”  
“Fine.”  
Virgil rolled his eyes at the triumph in Scotts. He should have never let him win this one. He’d never forget it. Scott left the table in search of the engineer and Virgil turned on the still grinning shit.  
“What are you grinning at?”  
Gordon just shrugged and turned the page of the paper without looking at Virgil. The grin got wider. Virgil’s sling itched at his neck.   
“I’d be careful after what you did to my ship.”  
That got a reaction, Gordon’s head snapping up and the grin disappearing.   
“What I did? I got you and your 'bird home in one piece is what I did Mr Ungrateful.”  
“A toddler could fly better than you could.”  
“A toddler- I sure hope you can swim Mr Ungrateful, because you deserve what’s coming to you.”  
With that, Gordon shot a hand gun at him and wandered out of the room as Brains came in with Scott.   
"Alright, l-let’s take a look at your head.”

The piano would have been dusty from misuse, but Grandma’s efforts kept it pristine. Virgil could help but feel a little bad at the stickiness of the keys. He still didn’t have one arm, but the notes in the back of his head were beginning to drive him crazy, and they would continue too until Virgil wrote them down. That, he knew from experience. Carefully pressing out the notes one-handed, he paused every so often to note them down with the pencil. As always, it was like a flood, and once he started he found himself unable to just stop. The shadows grew long and the lights in the room switched on as he worked. Scott appeared with a plate of food, depositing it next to Virgil before settling down on the couch.   
“What are you reading?”  
While he was the one who asked the question, Virgil wasn’t really paying attention to the answer.   
“The Queen of Spades.”  
“Whose it by?”  
“Pushkin.”  
“Oh.”  
Virgil was the kind of reader who liked to read what was recommended to him. Every time Scott handed him a book Virgil would sit down and read it, and it took him a hell of a lot longer than it took Scott but he always finished it. They usually were interesting, just like the book’s John recommended just in a wholly different way. Virgil’s hands kept pressing the keys and occasionally scribbling down the notes, and they slipped into silence. The smell of food was calling him, and Virgil had gotten down what was in his head, so he picked up the plate and joined Scott. They sat in silence and Virgil watched the darkness outside the windows. When he was finished, he yawned and Scott looked up.   
“I’ll take it down to the kitchen.”  
“Thanks”  
Leaving Scott with his book and the empty plate, Virgil stumbled off to bed.

Scott sipped on his coffee, feet propped on the coffee table. Virgil was still sleeping off the past week and trying to get away without using his sling, Gordon was trying his best to become a fish and Alan was off avoiding his homework. For a moment, he allowed himself a deep breath and shut his eyes. The beeping of an alarm opened them and Scott found himself looking at John.   
“What’s up?”


End file.
